


The Worst Idea (in the history of worst ideas)

by cassie_black



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-06 19:49:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5428499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassie_black/pseuds/cassie_black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur could have just told his father to stop arranging him blind dates, but it was much easier to just pretend he was dating Merlin, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Worst Idea (in the history of worst ideas)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silence_since_silence](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silence_since_silence/gifts).



> Thank you to the mods for keeping this fest going -- there really aren't enough exchange fests left anymore -- and for their endless patience. Thank you in advance to anyone who reads, comments, leaves kudos etc. Hope you all have/had very happy holidays. Dear Silence_since_silence, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

The crunch of gravel on the drive announced Morgana's arrival. If that hadn't, then squeal of tyres as she came to a sudden halt would have done it. Arthur let out a sigh and made for the front door – it wasn't that he didn't want to see his sister, it was just that these visits were inevitably exhausting, for him _and_ their father. Not that Morgana's infrequent visits home were about Uther's well-being – not even the ill-health that had brought Arthur home indefinitely had managed to bridge the frosty tundra between father and daughter. Arthur had long since given up trying himself. With a silent prayer that she had at least learnt to hold her tongue a little since the last, explosive visit, Arthur pulled the main doors open and headed down the steps to meet her.

"Arthur." Morgana's tone was warm, as was the hug that followed. Despite their squabbles and time apart, they remained close. "You look pale," she accused, hands firm on his shoulders and eyes scrutinising his face. "You spend too much time cooped up in this damn house."

"I'm fine, Morgana." Arthur chose to ignore her last words, which were a thinly veiled slight against Uther. "It's November. In England. I'm hardly likely to be bronzed."

Morgana had already returned to unloading her car, the usual excessive array of luggage on the gravel at her feet. She turned back to face him after a moment, one last item cradled carefully against her body. A small fish tank, it seemed, with several brightly-coloured inhabitants. How on earth that had made it from London intact with Morgana's driving, Arthur had no idea. 

"They're fish," he said, because really he had no idea what else _to_ say.

"Obviously." Morgana arched one brow and her tone said _idiot_.

"Why are they here?" Arthur asked, and swallowed down his irritation.

"I would have through that was obvious."

Arthur's patience was only so strong. "Given that I asked, I think you can safely assume it's not."

Morgana huffed and rolled her eyes in a way that took Arthur back to their younger days in the nursery. "They're for you," she said carefully, as if he were particularly slow.

"For me?" Arthur repeated incredulously. "You bought me fish?"

"You're catching on." Morgana gave him a patronising smile. "See, all those years at Rugby weren't wasted on you after all."

Arthur ignored the slight in her words – the disparity in their education was never a subject worth delving into. It was just one of Morgana's admittedly valid chips that she carried on her elegant shoulders. "Let me clarify," he said, eyes narrowed as stared at the tank. " _Why_ have brought me fish?"

"I thought you could use the company." Morgana gave a slight shrug, and what Arthur knew she thought was a winning smile. "You're all alone in this big house."

Arthur opened his mouth to protest this, but Morgana cut back in.

"I don't think Uther and the housekeeper qualify as company, do they?"

They didn't, but Arthur hated to concede any of her points. "There are animals all over the estate," he pointed out instead.

"Livestock, Arthur."

"We have dogs." It was a losing battle, he knew, but Arthur never went down without a fight. "Man's best friend."

Morgana shook her head, expression almost pitying in a way that raised Arthur's hackles. "They're working animals. You need something to keep you from getting lonely."

Arthur looked from the fish to his sister, expression sceptical. "And you thought fish were the way to achieve that?"

"I'll admit they're not the most sociable of creatures, but they're calming to watch, so I'm told. Besides, they probably have the best chance of survival given your—"

"For God's sake, I did not kill your cat!" If anything, Arthur had been more heartbroken than his sister over the untimely death.

"You left the back door open."

"I was four years old."

Arthur didn’t realise it was possible to sniff dismissively, but Morgana certainly gave it a good try. "I've got some food for them to start you off. But you'll need to keep them clean – the man in the shop said something about a pump and a filter." 

Arthur rolled his eyes. Of course Morgana hadn't paid any attention to the information. He took the tank reluctantly and looked at the occupants again. The damn thing was obviously too small from them, even he could see that. How was it that even the most well-meant of Morgana's intentions ended up costing him money?

"You could probably Google it. Or maybe get a book." Her gaze turned sly, knowing then. "I'm sure Merlin would have something suitable for you. You should pop down and see him later. I hear you've become quite close recently."

Arthur ignored the speculative look she gave him – he was too busy fighting off the blush that crept over his face. "Fine," he muttered. "I'll deal with these. But you can take them," he nodded at her numerous bags, "upstairs by yourself." He turned then and headed for the house, his burden cradled gingerly to his chest. Fish might be soothing to watch, Arthur reflected, but they rather hampered a dramatic exit.

***

Books had always been an important part of Merlin's life. His earliest – and really only – memories of his father were of them tucked up together on the sofa, while his father's deep voice sparked Merlin's imagination with tales of Robinson Crusoe and Huckleberry Finn. And after his father, there was his mother. Her voice soft and low, as one hand stroked through his hair, and she lulled him to sleep with the help of Frodo Baggins and friends. Throughout school he'd excelled at English, had spent his free time creating imaginary worlds, and no matter how isolated he sometimes felt as the scholarship boy in an over privileged school, he always had his books. The familiar scent, the feel of the worn leather bindings under his fingertips, the characters he'd so grown to love – he never felt alone as long as he had them. And when the time had come, it hadn't been a sacrifice for him to give up dreams of a publishing career when ill-health forced Gaius to step back from his beloved bookshop. Going to work every day surrounded by the very objects that had shaped his childhood never felt like anything less than coming home.

The ding of the shop bell drew Merlin's attention away from the new stock of Neil Gaiman's he was carefully displaying – Freya was manning the floor, but she was still new and Merlin liked to keep an eye on her. 

Arthur always managed to enter a room as if he owned it, even if it was somewhere he so obviously wasn't at home, like Merlin's cosy little bookshop. Range Rover no doubt parked illegally outside – Merlin had given up explaining to Arthur that parking regulations applied to him as well – Arthur entered dressed in the coloured chinos and blazer combination that Merlin wanted to hate but couldn't because something in Arthur's bearing enabled him to pull it off. 

Merlin got to his feet and dusted off his knees. "You're out and about early." He knew Arthur usually spent his mornings driving around his father's estate – checking it was running smoothly, Arthur claimed, but Merlin suspected he was just avoiding Uther.

"Morgana's home." A slight scowl marred Arthur's boyish features.

Merlin couldn't help but grin. He knew Arthur loved his sister but no one could push his buttons quite like she could. "What's she done this time?"

"Bought me fish."

That was a new one. "Fish, as in…" Merlin made a 'swimmy' motion with his hand.

Arthur huffed impatiently. "Unless you know of any other kind of fish?"

Merlin shrugged in response. "She could have bought you a pound of cod."

"Unlikely though."

"Maybe," Merlin allowed. "But her buying actual fish is pretty bizarre too."

"Tell me about it." Arthur flopped down gracefully into one of that battered leather chairs Merlin kept scattered about the shop. "What on earth am I supposed to do with fish?" He didn't wait for an answer though, just looked at Merlin hopefully. "I don't suppose you're in the market for a pet?"

Merlin held up hands as if to ward off the prospect. "No, thank you. I have enough responsibility with this place. Besides, you don't want to offend Morgana, do you?" And even if Arthur did, Merlin certainly didn't want to be part of it – Morgana was a dear friend, but not someone to be crossed if at all possible.

"Fine." Arthur sighed loudly. "I guess you'd better give me a book on fish then," he said, and gestured vaguely to the surrounding shelves.

Merlin crossed his arms and stared at Arthur, one brow raised.

"What?"

Merlin shook his head at Arthur's genuine confusion – it was hard to get mad at him, even at times like that. "Nothing, Your Highness," he said, with a tug at an imaginary cap. "I'll just scurry off to fulfil your demands now, shall I?"

Arthur grinned for the first time since entering, and stretched out in the chair. "Good boy, Merlin. You know it makes sense."

Fortunately Merlin knew the shop like the back of his hand, so locating Arthur's request took little time – he made sure to select the most expensive of the bunch though. It would serve Arthur right for being a lazy arse.

"Are you coming out Saturday night?" he asked, as he rang the purchase through the shop's ancient till. "There's a live band on down _The Red Lion_. They're supposed to be good."

"Who's going?" Arthur handed over his credit card without so much as a flinch at the exorbitantly-priced book.

"Gwaine's coming. So I imagine that means Morgana will be there, too."

Arthur pulled a face at this information. Morgana and Gwaine had a strange relationship that no one could quite work out – no strings, they both claimed, but Merlin wasn't fooled. Arthur just preferred not to think about it at all.

"I'm not sure," he hedged. "I might be busy."

Arthur always had been a bad liar. "Come on," Merlin wheedled. "You haven't been out in ages. I'm sure the estate won't collapse if you're not there for one evening."

"Maybe." Arthur tone was reluctant still, but Merlin didn't give up that easily.

"You really ought to," he said, and handed over Arthur's bagged purchase. "After all, now that we're dating, we really should spend more time together."

Arthur's face turned a colour to match his favourite chinos. "What?" His tone didn't convince Merlin, nor did his efforts to appear innocent.

"My mum rang earlier." Merlin folded his arms over his chest and gave Arthur a mock-stern glare. "Apparently your father has got it into his head that you and I are in a relationship."

"Oh."

Merlin couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. "Oh? That's all you've got?"

Arthur shrugged. "It's not the worst thing people have accused me of."

That much was certainly true. "Not by a long shot," Merlin agreed. "But you're still taking this very well – no freaking out, no protestations of heterosexuality."

Arthur crossed his arms tightly over his chest, his expression turned sulky. "I'm not a bigot."

"I know _that_." Merlin dismissed with a wave of his hands. "But you're still…where did your father get such a strange idea from?"

"It's not that strange."

Arthur's sulky tone was starting to confuse Merlin. "What?"

"Well, you're gay, "Arthur pointed out, somewhat redundantly. "And I'm…"

"What?" Merlin prompted.

"Me." And then the sulking gave way to smugness.

"Really? That's…" Merlin shook his head, torn between amusement and irritation. "Arthur, did you tell your father we were together?" 

He hadn't really expected the truth, not that quickly, so Arthur's "Yes?" came as something of a surprise.

"Are you asking or telling me?"

Arthur looked uncertain for a moment and his gaze darted everywhere but in Merlin's directly. "Telling," he said finally.

"But why?" Merlin was genuinely baffled – what could Arthur possibly have to gain from the lie.

"He kept trying to fix me up with his friends' daughters. He wanted me to take out _Sophia,_ Merlin. _Sophia!"_

Merlin wondered, not for the first time, how someone as smart as Arthur could be such an idiot at times. "And rather than just say no, you decided to out yourself, with me cast as the gay lover?"

Arthur winced at that wording and Merlin couldn’t help but laugh at his pained expression. "You don't get to be squeamish," he chided. "If we're having hot, sweaty man-sex, then you need to be less—"

"Merlin!" Arthur's face was beet red once again, and his gaze flicked around the shop nervously. 

"Calm down." Merlin bit back a grin at his obvious discomfort. "No one's going to believe you're anything but a poster boy for heterosexuality."

Arthur's gaze dropped again and he shifted awkwardly. "What if I'm not?" 

It was said quietly, and Merlin wasn't entirely sure it was meant for him to hear. But hear it he did. "Arthur," he began tentatively, and reached across the counter. "Are you—?"

Arthur stepped back suddenly, book clutched to his chest. "I have to get back," he announced stiffly.

"Okay." Merlin desperately wanted to force the issue a little, because _something_ was definitely happening here – but the shop was hardly the place for such a conversation, and Arthur was clearly far from ready to have it anyway. So instead he watched as Arthur made his way swiftly to the door. Where he paused.

"Merlin?" he said, his back still to the room.

"Yes?"

There was a long pause before Arthur turned around, and Merlin found himself holding his breath. "Thank you for the book."

It obviously wasn't what he'd planned to say, but Merlin nodded in response. "No problem." The words were barely out of his mouth before the shop bell rang again, this time announcing Arthur's departure. Merlin leant forward on the counter, head in his hands, as the sound of an over-priced Range Rover roared off outside.

***

"So, I hear congratulations are in order."

If Arthur had doubted the wisdom of that night's outing before, Gwaine's greeting only sealed it for him. He handed money over to the barmaid before acknowledging his presence. "What?" Arthur tried hard to keep the irritation out of his voice, but it was easier said than done. Gwaine mocked Arthur relentlessly for being a posh git – despite being one himself – _and_ he was blatantly shagging Arthur's sister.

"You and Merlin." If anything, Gwaine's grin only got wider.

"Fuck off." 

Again, Gwaine's grin didn't lessen any. "Don't be shy. Hunith was full of it earlier when I dropped round. So pleased her Merlin's finally _found himself a nice young man._ "

Arthur managed a smile as he took his change from the barmaid, but swiftly turned to glare at his friend. "Are you going to keep this up all night?"

Gwaine just _looked_. "What do you think?"

Arthur made his thoughts obvious by turning back to the bar and ordering a whiskey chaser. "I think," he said finally, "That I am nowhere near drunk enough for your shit tonight."

Completely unoffended in the affable way of his that drove Arthur insane, Gwaine slung an arm around Arthur's shoulders. "Don't be like that," he said, hints of a slur giving tell of just how long he'd already been in the pub. "We're practically family now."

Arthur looked around for Merlin to rescue him, but he had already bagged a table with Morgana, and they were busy gossiping together like two old washer women. Probably talking about him, Arthur thought glumly. For the hundredth time that week, Arthur thought what a bad idea this was. He'd just wanted his father to back off from his love life – and hadn't that backfired spectacularly. Uther had actually suggested him bring Merlin to Sunday lunch. Even Gwaine hadn't managed an invite there yet.

Arthur wisely said nothing further to Gwaine – he always had Arthur tied up in verbal knots and left him feeling idiotic. He contented himself with a muttered "arsehole" before he shrugged off Gwaine's arm and headed to their table. He handed over Merlin's pint and felt his stomach sink at the sight of Morgana's 'Cheshire cat' grin – that never boded well for him.

"I've passed on Uther's invite." Her eyes danced in amusement over the top of her wine glass. It made Arthur long to throttle her.

"What?" he asked, teeth gritted.

"Well, I thought you might _forget_ , and Uther would be so disappointed."

She didn't give a shit about Uther's feelings most days, but Arthur focussed on the sense of irritation he felt – it kept his mind off the build up of icy fear in the pit of his stomach. 

When Arthur remained silent still, Morgana rolled her eyes. "Dinner. On Sunday? He mentioned it just before we left. Remember?"

Arthur tried to be as discreet as possible as he took several calming breaths. "I remember," he said, and fought the urge to wipe the smirk off Gwaine's face. "Don't feel obliged to come," he said, facing Merlin. "Father just—"

"It's fine, Arthur. I'm quite looking forward to it."

If Merlin was looking to put Arthur at ease, he failed. "You're coming?"

"Be rude to say no." Merlin had a teasing glint in his eyes that Arthur blamed Morgana firmly for. "Besides, your cook does a mean Sunday roast, so I'm told."

"To die for," Gwaine agreed.

Arthur didn't hide his scowl this time. "You've never had one."

Gwaine grinned, entirely unfazed. "But I've heard tell. They're legendary."

"Legendary," Morgana agreed, and raised her glass to clink against his.

Arthur slumped back in his seat – he hated them both and told them so in no uncertain terms.

Morgana calmly swirled the scarlet liquid in her glass before taking a slow sip. "I'm just trying to help you out," she said finally. "Do you really want Uther fetching up in Merlin's shop to ask about his intentions?"

"Intentions?" Merlin spluttered into his beer, at the same time as Arthur said,

"He wouldn't."

Morgana just quirked one brow at her brother. 

Arthur sank further in his seat. "He would," he agreed glumly.

Never down for long, Merlin leant forward in his seat. "Will he offer to pay me off?" he asked brightly.

"Don't accept a penny less than ten grand," Gwaine advised sagely. "Know your worth."

"Ten grand?" Arthur repeated, more than a little stunned by the direction the conversation had taken.

"You think I should ask for more?" Merlin _looked_ serious, but Arthur was fairly sure he was taking the piss.

"Merlin, my father is not going to pay you off."

Merlin and Gwaine appeared sceptical, but Arthur found support from a surprising source. "No," Morgana, agreed with him for the first time in what felt like forever. "He's always rather liked you, Merlin. I think he's just happy Arthur's settling down at last."

If it was possibly, Merlin paled at that. "Settling down?" he repeated faintly, then turned to jab an accusing finger at Arthur. "I am not marrying you just because you're too scared to tell your dad to butt out of your love life."

"Don't be ridiculous." Arthur drained the remainder of his pint and then took a moment to pray no one was listening to their conversation. "No one's proposing. We'll just date for a couple of months and then break up – amicably."

Merlin's face took on an expression that was becoming weirdly familiar just recently – Arthur still had no idea what it meant, though. "Just date?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," came Arthur's firm reply.

There was a beat too long of silence before Merlin drained the rest of his own drink and shoved the empty glass in Arthur's direction. "You'd better get me another one of those then. I'm no cheap date."

***

Arthur never usually had trouble asking for what he wanted, or speaking what was on his mind, but something about Merlin – or more specifically, _him_ and Merlin – these last few weeks had left the ground under Arthur's feet a little uncertain. But he couldn't hide from it any longer. Pendragons were not cowards he reminded himself, in a voice that sounded a little too much like his father for comfort. This accounted, possibly, for his questionable decision that the concession stand at their local Imax was the ideal place for such a conversation.

"Why are you doing this?"

Merlin turned his attention from the menu board. "You said you wanted to see the film. And I don't _hate_ James Bond films," he added with a shrug.

Arthur took his popcorn bucket from the assistant, handed over a twenty, and then took a moment to inhale the buttery scent. When he looked back up, Merlin's eyes were crinkled in amusement at his behaviour.

"You know what I mean," Arthur said, returning to the conversation at hand.

Merlin didn't reply straight away, he just watched Arthur with keen eyes that felt like they were boring under his skin. "I do," he agreed finally. "But I'm just not sure now is an ideal time." He followed this up with a loud slurp of his drink – a move, Arthur knew, that was designed to both annoy and distract him. He curbed the flicker of irritation and ignored it.

"I'm serious." Arthur took his change from the assistant and then stepped away from the counter. "I know why I'm doing it. But what's in it for you?"

Merlin stilled at those words, expression unreadable.

Worried he'd caused offence, Arthur hurriedly spoke, "I didn't mean it like that."

Merlin waved away his protests. "I know you didn't. I've known you long enough to know when you're just being a tactless git."

Arthur ignored that attempt at side-tracking too. "So?" he prodded.

Merlin shrugged then turned to offer their tickets to the waiting usher. "I'm helping a friend. Isn't that enough?"

It should be, Arthur thought. But after only a couple of weeks of this charade, he'd become surprisingly at home with the arrangement, and he couldn’t help but wish Merlin's intentions were a little less _honourable_. "I suppose," he said slowly. "I just don't want to make things awkward for you."

Merlin let out a snort as he took back their ticket stubs. "It's a bit late for that."

Arthur flinched. He couldn't help himself. So he concentrated very hard on pushing the door open and holding so for Merlin. "I see," he said, stiffly.

Merlin poked him lightly in the belly as he walked past. "Don't be an idiot," he said. "I honestly don't mind. You know me well enough to know that I'd say so if I did."

"That's true," Arthur allowed, with a small smile.

"Besides," Merlin added, as he located their seats. "It's not exactly a hardship to have people think I've scored myself a hot, rich toff as a boyfriend."

"Hey!" Arthur protested. "I'm not a toff." Then Merlin's words sank in. "You think I'm hot?" he asked slyly.

Merlin just shook his head and nudged Arthur towards their seats. "Like you don't already think it enough for the both of us."

Arthur sprawled out in his seat, long limbs encroaching on Merlin's space. "Of course," he agreed, without a hint of shame. "I just didn't realise you'd seen the light as well."

Merlin jabbed him with a surprisingly pointy elbow. "Shut up and eat your popcorn."

Arthur grinned at Merlin for a minute, and knew the warmth he could feel was the result of something more than the popcorn he was currently holding. But he'd chosen this film, _insisted_ they had to see it, so he finally turned his attention to the big screen.

It was easier said than done to maintain his focus, though. There was something about the way the soft blue glow from the screen lit Merlin's face, highlighting his cheek bones and leaving his eyes dark, inky pools. Arthur was helpless to stop his gaze drifting in that direction, time and again. Until he found Merlin watching him right back, a gentle smile curving his lips.

"Okay?" he mouthed.

And Arthur nodded, not sure what he would say even if he had been able to speak. It seemed to be enough for Merlin, though, who then nestled down in his seat, body slanted towards Arthur, until finally his head came to rest against Arthur's arm. Arthur didn't dare move for the rest of the film for fear of losing that contact. 

And later that evening, even after he'd dropped Merlin at home, Arthur could still feel the phantom heat of that touch against his skin. On returning home, Arthur headed straight upstairs, despite his father's summons. He made it to his bedroom before pulling out his phone and flopping back onto the bed. He hit dial, and after a few moments said,

"Morgana, I think I'm in trouble."

***

Merlin was up to his neck in old and new books, desperately trying to return his stock room into some semblance of order after Freya's first foray into stock control

"Never again," he muttered to himself. All his carefully ordered systems had been ignored in favour of a _put anything anywhere_ approach. Merlin liked Freya, he really did. But he liked order more.

The store room door opened then and the culprit herself peered inside. "Visitor," was all she said before vanishing again.

Before Merlin could process anything more, Arthur appeared in the doorway, his cheeks a little flushed.

"She _winked_ at me," he said, in scandalised tones.

Merlin sat back on what was hopefully a sturdy box and smiled at his friend. "She probably thinks we're about to have illicit stockroom sex."

Arthur sounded like he'd coked on his own tongue. "What? Why?"

"Well," Merlin said, his attention now returned to his clipboard, "that's usually what people in relationships do. From what I remember." When no response came, Merlin looked up. Arthur's cheeks were bright red – flustered had always been a good look on him, Merlin thought.

"You haven't told her the truth?" Arthur asked. "About us," he added, as if there could be anything else he meant.

"Didn't see the point." Merlin dropped his clipboard on a nearby box – he obviously wasn't going to get his work finished anytime soon. "It's easier when I don't have to remember which of my friends I'm lying to."

Arthur's wince was visible. "Sorry." He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, a clear sign of his discomfort.

Merlin got slowly to his feet, stepping carefully around the various piles of books. "Stop apologising," he said, firm but soft. "I went along with it, didn't I? This was as much my choice as yours."

Arthur's hand now moved to rake through his hair, and Merlin had to fight the urge to reach out and reorder the golden strands. "Even your mum?" Arthur asked.

Merlin shrugged. He wasn't proud of lying to his mum, but she'd understand when it all came out. "She talks to your dad," he said. "I didn't want her to have to lie, too."

"Makes sense, I suppose," Arthur said, but the guilty expression remained. "She doesn't mind?"

"She's known I'm gay since high school. I think the Robbie Williams shrine gave it away."

Arthur chuckled at that. "I think it was you _kissing_ the damn thing goodnight that clinched it."

Merlin reached out and poked Arthur firmly in the side. "I told you that in confidence."

Arthur's smile widened. "And I'll take it to the grave," he said, and crossed his heart with one fingertip.

"Only because I know about your Posh Spice pillow," Merlin teased, and was satisfied to see the creeping flush of embarrassment on Arthur's neck -- this time his fingers itched to touch the heated flesh.

"I have no idea _what_ you're talking about," Arthur replied loftily. 

"Of course you don't." Merlin reached down and picked up his clipboard again, before adding, "How's your dad taking it? Really?"

"He doesn't know about the pillow."

"Not the bloody pillow." Merlin whacked the clipboard against Arthur's arm – it made a satisfying _thunk_.

"Ow!" Arthur rubbed pointedly at his arm and actually _pouted_.

"Shut up, you big faker." Merlin had known Arthur far too long to be taken in. "Seriously though, this," he gestured between the two of them, "must have come as a bit of a shock."

Arthur shrugged. "You'd think so, but not so much, apparently. He's been remarkably calm about the whole thing. At least he's not throwing his friends' single daughters at me anymore."

"That's good." But more than a little surprising. "I feel a bit bad for misjudging him," Merlin admitted.

"Me too." Arthur picked a random book off the nearby shelf and flicked through it distractedly. "Morgana reckons he already thought you and I were…and I just confirmed it for him."

Merlin's eyes widened in surprise. "Your dad thought you and me…"

"Were together?" Arthur supplied. "Yes, apparently. Is that so surprising?"

"Well, yes. Because we weren't, and because you're straight."

Arthur flushed again and became incredibly interested in the book he was holding. Merlin thought back to their first conversation about this _relationship_ , what seemed like weeks ago –he wasn't letting Arthur go without some answers this time.

"Arthur?" he said and carefully stepped forward, as if approaching a wild animal. "Aren't you?" he asked, then held his breath for the answer.

"Maybe?" Arthur gave his attention this time, the book forgotten back on the shelf. "I've always kind of wondered what it would be like with another man."

"Sex?" Merlin asked. He could barely believe he was saying it, but this was Arthur and he _had_ to know.

Arthur's eyes widened at that, and he shook his head. "Not…just kissing. Being…together."

"Why didn't you say anything?" They'd been friends for years, since they were boys, and Merlin couldn’t fathom _how_ he didn't already know this. Something that was so important a part of who his friend was. 

"I think I was scared." Arthur licked at his lips, a sure tell of his nerves – Merlin couldn’t help but track the movement.

"Of me?" Merlin asked – he didn't want to think that could be the case, but he had to ask.

Thankfully Arthur shook his head. "Of what it could mean for me," he replied, and Merlin could practically feel the shame radiating off him.

Merlin reached out and placed one hand gently on Arthur's arm, hoping to ground him. "You know no one who matters would care, right?"

Arthur gaze dropped from Merlin's face to his hand, and he almost seemed to lean into the touch. "You don't care?" he asked eventually.

"Why would I care, Arthur? Me, of all people."

Arthur looked away again and gave a helpless sort of a shrug. "I thought that maybe…"

"Maybe what?" Merlin prodded, when Arthur seemed to run out of words. "You don't have to be embarrassed. I'm the last person to judge anyone – Robbie Williams poster, remember?"

Merlin had expected a smile at that, maybe a laugh, even outright denial would have made sense. He definitely had not expected Arthur to lean in close and press their lips together. It was short and soft and so incredibly sweet that despite his common sense screaming _what the fuck?_ Merlin found his fingers buried in the fabric of Arthur's shirt, clutching at him as if his life depended on it. And honestly, for those few short seconds, it felt like it did.

"Merlin!" Freya's shout and loud bang on the door was another mark on Merlin's every-growing list of _reasons to fire my assistant_! But the moment was shattered and Arthur stumbled back, his lips slick and shiny in a way that made Merlin ache to chase after them. But the expression of sheer panic on Arthur's face was enough to quell that urge.

"I-I-I…" he stammered, and Merlin had never seen him look so afraid. "Merlin, I didn't—"

"Don't apologise." Merlin didn't think he could bear that. Arthur had managed to turn his entire world upside down in the last minute or so, and the last thing Merlin needed to hear now was how much he regretted doing it. "Please," he begged.

Arthur swallowed hard and gave a small nod. His eyes were still wide and panicked though.

"Merlin?" Freya shouted again and Merlin was definitely going to kill her for this. She had the _worst_ timing ever.

"I have to…" he gestured towards the door but his feet didn't seem willing to comply. "Wait here, please? I'll be quick."

Arthur's hand rubbed the back of his neck again. "I should go."

Which was the worst thing possible as far as Merlin was concerned. If Arthur left now, he would brood and panic, and convince himself that he should never speak to Merlin again for Merlin's own good. It was exactly the sort of noble bullshit he would pull, and Merlin was tired of it.

"We should talk about this," he said firmly.

Arthur's expression said he'd rather walk barefoot over hot coals, but a short nod was all he gave in reply.

Merlin turned towards the door, ready to commit murder on whatever imbecile awaited him. But as his fingers curled around the door handle, he paused. A quick look behind showed Arthur, shoulders slumped, one hand scrubbing despairingly at his face. "Arthur."

Only silence followed.

"Look at me, please?" Merlin tried again.

Finally Arthur pulled his hand away and met Merlin's gaze, his expression unreadable.

"I'm _not_ sorry." It wasn't what he'd meant to say, but the sight of Arthur's distress made it the only possible thing he _could_ say. And he was rewarded with a shaky smile.

It was going to be okay, Merlin allowed himself to believe as he left the room. But he reckoned without Pendragon pigheadedness. He'd barely begun to address his customer's needs before Arthur shuffled out of the stock room. His head hung low, but the state of his shirt and hair alerted anyone who cared to look, to exactly what had been going on in that small room only a few minutes before.

"I should go," he said, gaze fixed somewhere over Merlin's right shoulder. "I have an appointment with my accountant."

True or not it didn't stop Merlin's irritation, or panic.

"I'll call you later," Arthur said as he opened the door, but Merlin was pretty sure that he wouldn't.

***

It had been nearly two weeks since The Kiss, as the Morgana-sounding voice in the back of Arthur's brain had taking to calling it. Despite Merlin's doubts, Arthur _had_ called him, eventually. But only after Morgana had dragged the truth out of him, and then nagged, bullied, and badgered him until he'd dialled Merlin's number just to shut her up. Arthur had no intention of admitting it – ever – but he was glad that she had. He knew, that left to his own devices, things between him and Merlin would have festered, become increasingly awkward, until there was too much between them to salvage their friendship. And if that was all Arthur could have out of this whole sorry mess, then he desperately wanted to hang on to Merlin's friendship.

His gratitude towards Morgana was on the wane today, though. Because despite Arthur's best machinations, the long-feared Sunday dinner had finally been scheduled, and right at that moment Merlin was sat discussing middle-eastern politics around the dinner table with a very enthusiastic Uther. Arthur, meanwhile, was hiding in the kitchen, pretending to make coffee.

"This is the worst idea in the history of worst ideas," he said aloud, head in hands on the worktop.

"Are you expecting a response from them?"

Arthur started, then turned a narrow gaze on his sister. "What?"

Morgana nodded in the direction of the fish tank, which now lived in the kitchen because the noise of the filter kept Arthur awake at night. "I assumed you were talking to them. There's no one else in the room."

Arthur glanced at the tank – he'd grown used to their presence now, despite the initial reluctance. Nemo and Dory – that was what came from putting Merlin in charge of naming – just gazed blankly at him through the glass. "Did you want something?"

Morgana's heels clacked loudly against the tile as she crossed the room. "Coffee," she replied, pointedly flipping the kettle on. "Which you were supposed to be making half an hour ago, instead of having some existential crisis."

"It hasn't been that long."

"It bloody well feels like it," she said feelingly, then perched on a nearby bar stool. "Poor Merlin deserves a medal for not telling Uther where to shove his right-wing agenda."

"And yet you left him in there, alone," Arthur pointed out wryly.

"He's not alone." Morgana smirked. "He's with Uther. Besides, he's _your_ guest."

"You're the one who invited him." Arthur scowled – he was perfectly happy with blaming Morgana for this mess right now. She, however, was not.

"Actually, that was Uther. Don't shoot the messenger."

"You knew exactly what you were doing." Arthur popped open the tin of fish food and sprinkled some on the surface – fish were supposed to be calming, and he could really use some of that right then.

"I thought I did." Morgana didn't sound quite so smug this time. "I _thought _it would force you to pull your head out of your arse where Merlin is concerned. If I'd realised it would just make you jam it in there further, then I'd have kept quiet."__

__"I'm not—" Arthur huffed. "It's none of your business."_ _

__"And yet I'm the person you ring to whine about your big unrequited crush."_ _

__Arthur slammed the tin back on the counter. "It's not funny."_ _

__"No, it's not." Morgana's heels beat a gentle rhythm as they kicked against the kitchen cupboards. "Nor is it unrequited."_ _

__Arthur laughed a touch bitterly. "You don't know that."_ _

__"Are you stupid?" Morgana tapped one red nail against the tank and sent Nemo darting away. "Seriously? He kissed you back – you said so yourself. He's spent the last four weeks pretending to be your boyfriend, _lied_ to his family for you, and now he's sat in there making polite conversation with Britain's answer to Donald Trump."_ _

__"Don't be ridiculous," Arthur snapped. Then, after a beat, added," Father wouldn't be seen dead with that comb-over."_ _

__Morgana laughed, probably at the mental image presented. She reached out and laid a hand on Arthur's arm. "I'm serious about the rest of it though. You and Merlin have been dancing around something for years, whether you knew it or not. Those aren't the sort of things you do for someone who's _just a good friend_."_ _

__Arthur groaned – she was right, and he knew it. And worse than that, she _knew_ he did. "How do I fix it?" he asked, because apparently he had no shame left – but he had no ideas either, so he'd take what he could get._ _

__Morgana took her hand off his arm and cuffed him gently around the head. "Talk to him, idiot."_ _

__So for once in his life, Arthur took his sister's advice. He rescued Merlin from an awkward discussion about Syrian refugees, and guided him out the front doors. It was cold, but dry, and perfect for taking a stroll. He let the dogs free to roam with them. They were excitable and overdue for a walk – he'd been neglecting them these past few days, caught up, as he had been, in his own melodrama. They bounded gratefully across the manicured lawns, as if chasing some unseen prey. Arthur saw Merlin smile after them out of the corner of his eye._ _

___Pendragons aren't afraid,_ he reminded himself, and this time the voice was all his father. Bravery was all well and good, but it couldn't help Arthur find the right words. _Facta, non verba_ had been his prep school motto, and Arthur decided now was as good a time as any to live up to it. He might struggle to tell Merlin _how_ he felt, but he could at least try to show him._ _

__Merlin stopped in his tracks as Arthur's hand took hold of his, lacing their fingers together, and for a heart-stopping moment, Arthur thought he had miscalculated. But the smile on Merlin's face grew more certain, and he gave Arthur's hand a gentle squeeze._ _

__"Thank you for lunch," he said softly._ _

__It was all Arthur could do not to laugh incredulously, because how was Merlin thanking him after what he'd had to endure. "I should be thanking you," Arthur replied, as he retrieved a ball from his pocket and threw it after the excited Labradors. "Father can be a bit…overwhelming at times."_ _

__"It was fine, honestly." Merlin turned to face Arthur and gave a smile that was so obviously genuine. "He was really trying."_ _

__Arthur laughed. " _Very > trying."__ _

___Merlin gave a tug on their joined hands, and his gaze drifted down as if he couldn't quite believe it without seeing. "I'm serious. This can't be easy for him, but he's still making an effort."_ _ _

___"I suppose." They carried on walking in silence then for a while, Arthur's gaze taking in the surrounding land, checking for any potential work to be carried out, and just generally revelling in the sight of the land he'd grown up on, had come to love with almost the same ferocity his father did. "I'm going to tell him the truth," he blurted out after a few minutes._ _ _

___Merlin's expression was wary. "Why?"_ _ _

___"You're right," Arthur said with a shrug. "He really is making an effort, and I just feel like an ungrateful shit for lying to him."_ _ _

___"You want to go back to blind dates with rich daddy's girls?" There was a touch of bitterness in Merlin's voice that gave Arthur cause to hope._ _ _

___"Not exactly," he said. "I was thinking…" He came to a stop then and tugged on Merlin's hand until they were facing. "I _do_ want to come clean," he said. "I should never have put either of us in the position of having to lie to family."_ _ _

___"It's fine," Merlin said, repeating words he'd said dozens of times already._ _ _

___Arthur shook his head stubbornly. "It's not. I don't want you to have to lie anymore. But…" he trailed off for a moment and took a deep breath before continuing. "But I don't want to lose this either." He raised their joined hands to illustrate the point._ _ _

___Merlin's brow scrunched in confusion. "I don't understand."_ _ _

___Arthur shook his head, expression fondly. "Merlin, you idiot. I'm asking you out, properly."_ _ _

___Merlin's expression cleared. " _That's_ how you ask people out? How did you ever get dates before me?"_ _ _

___"I'm charming and handsome, and ladies love me, I'll have you know."_ _ _

___"Not a lady," Merlin pointed out._ _ _

___"I have noticed," Arthur replied, amusement in his voice. Then, because he wanted Merlin to know he really was sure, added, "I've thought about this, about _us_ a lot. You're not an experiment, I promise."_ _ _

___Apparently Merlin had been a little concerned about that, because he seemed to relax visibly at Arthur's words. "Go on then," he said._ _ _

___It was Arthur's turn to frown now. "Go on, what?"_ _ _

___"Ask me out." Merlin rolled his eyes in a familiar expression of exasperation._ _ _

___"I thought I had," Arthur replied, and shook his head in amusement. "Is this going to turn into one of those high-maintenance relationships? I feel like I should have been warned in advance if that's the case."_ _ _

___"Too late." Merlin grinned, and his smile warmed Arthur against the crisp winter air. "You can't take it back now."_ _ _

___"Don't want to," Arthur said, words muffled as his lips brushed against Merlin's. And he had a feeling he never would._ _ _

_____ _

***


End file.
